


Into Africa

by BrynnH87



Category: Sentinel - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Sentinel AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynnH87/pseuds/BrynnH87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Sentinel Reverse Big Bang.  Blair goes to Africa on an expedition and meets a man that changes his life.  I've been told it could read as pre-slash if you wanted it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into Africa

**Author's Note:**

> There's a slight mention of a cross over, but it's perfectly fine if you don't recognize it. It doesn't really impact the story.

 

Into Africa

 

Journal - Expedition to Tanzania:

Day 1

I’m used to South America.  I’m out of my element here in Africa.  I should have told Eli to just go on this expedition without me, but what was I supposed to do?  One of his kids bailed at the last minute.  He couldn’t find a replacement and he needed a whole team.  I’ve been on most of Dr. Stoddard’s expeditions and I couldn’t leave him hanging just because I _finally_ got my doctorate.

We’ll see how it goes.  At the very least, I’ll learn a lot.  Gotta love opportunities to learn.

 

Day 5

Eli has somehow charmed one of the local Maasai villages into letting us stay with them. It’s a really good thing, actually. With the nearest city being five hours away, we’d eat up all our time in commute, or have to try to camp and, while I’m really fascinated with all the plain’s animals, I really don’t want to have to try to camp among them.

The Maasai are really nice people.  Primitive by our standards, but they have their own standards, their own morals, their own guiding force.  Many of their younger generations are going to the cities, and taking up more modern customs, but this particular group is farther away from _any_ city than most Maasai villages, so they’re still pretty entrenched in the traditional ways.

The more I learn about our objective here, the more I’m really glad I came.  The Maasai have just about perfected herbal medicine, if you ask me.  They can cure so many things - from high blood pressure and diabetes to viral, bacterial, fungal and parasitic infections, including malaria and TB.  But, their knowledge is passed down from one generation to the next, verbally; and, with so many of their younger generations leaving the village and the more traditional way of life, to live in the cities, there are fewer and fewer opportunities to actually teach the next generations.  We’re here to document as much of their herbal medicine as possible and preserve it for posterity.

Having grown up with Naomi, I don’t put a lot of stock in modern, western, medicine, but the things these people can do with herbs and natural materials… I’m just in awe.  Naomi would be too.  I’ll have to tell her all about all of this when I can get to a phone (if I can track her down).  But, since the nearest city is so far away and there are still precious little modern amenities even there, it may have to wait a while.

 

Day 28

I’ve been here for a month now, and it’s a good thing we’re writing all these herbal remedies down, because I’m still having a hard time remembering which herb does what.  The local Laibon – their medicine-man/shaman, I guess he’d be – has taken me under his wing.  His name is Mbiraru and he says I have the soul of a shaman and I’m destined for great things, but that I’m incomplete.  I don’t know about “destined for great things” part, but I _have_ always felt incomplete.  Even though I love Naomi with all my heart, and I truly enjoyed growing up traveling all over the world, I’ve always felt that there was something missing.  I thought, for the longest time, that it was just that I wanted roots – wanted to stay put in one place and make a life there – but I’ve been in Cascade (when I wasn’t on expeditions) since I was 16 and the feeling still hasn’t gone away.  Something about being here, in Africa, in this tiny Maasai village, feels right.  I still haven’t found that missing piece, but it feels like I’m a lot closer to it than ever before.  So, I’m immersing myself in their customs, their way of life, and learning everything I can.

The people here, speak Maasai (or, as it was sometimes called, Maa) and I’d picked it up rather quickly, though I am still nowhere near fluent.  The few schools that dot the outlying regions of Tanzania teach in Swahili or English, but this village is so far away from the nearest ‘town’ that most of these people didn’t speak much English.  Mbiraru is learning from us, though, as are most of the villagers, to varying degrees.  So between my broken Maasai and his broken English, we get by pretty well. 

The Maasai live in loaf-shaped houses made of mud, sticks, and grass and two more ingredients I try not to think too hard about.  As with most ‘primitive’ tribes, the Maasai are adept at using whatever nature provides to make whatever they need.  Since the Maasai are primarily herders, cow dung and urine were abundant, so they are mixed into the mud to provide extra consistency to weather-proof the Inkajijiks (the houses).  I had thought they’d stink, but it turned out that once the dung and urine dries, they don’t really smell that bad.  They actually did a good job keeping the Inkajijik cool during the hot days and warm during the cooler (relatively speaking) nights.  Most of the students on Eli’s team still complain about the smell or the heat, but I actually _love_ it here.

 

Day 32

My life changed today!

I had been inside one of the Inkajijiks with Mbiraru, going over a particularly complicated ‘recipe’ for an antibacterial salve, when we heard a commotion outside.  As we came out of the hut, we saw a group of villagers pointing toward the sky and speculating on what was going on.

Eli came up to me as soon as I got outside, even before I realized what I was seeing.  “Blair, that’s a US military plane!”  He pointed toward the area of sky that had everyone so interested.

Sure enough, it did seem to be just that.  It also seemed to be in the process of crashing.  There was smoke and, if I looked hard enough, even flames coming out of the engine and it was pointed in a decidedly unhealthy angle to the ground.  One of the ‘kids’ in Eli’s expedition had already gotten the jeep and Eli and I piled in with several other students.

“Mbiraru,” I shouted, in my less than fluent Maasai, “Bring the salve.  There may be injured.”  I finished the thought _if anyone survives at all_ only in my head.

Mbiraru did one better and not only brought the salve, but jumped into the jeep with us.

We saw the plane crash in the distance before we were anywhere near the site.  We heard it go down, and saw the explosion.  It wasn’t as big as I had feared and I had hope, for the first time, that maybe _someone_ might have survived.  Just as we came into visual range, some minutes later, we were ‘treated’ to a front-row seat of a bigger explosion.  If there was anyone still in that plane, there was no rescue for them now.  The plane was now fully engulfed in flames.

I cursed silently, and Eli did the same, just not so silently.  We had been so close.  We were _almost_ there in time to save those people.  We drove around the crashed aircraft, checking for survivors who might have gotten out in those minutes before the final explosion.  Just when we were beginning to give up hope, Mbiraru saw movement close – way too close – to the flames.

We quickly parked the jeep as close as we dared and rushed toward the figure.  As we got closer, we could see that there were actually three people there.  Two lying much too still and one on his hands and knees, crawling ever so slowly toward the wreckage.  That was the one that drew my attention.  While the students and Mbiraru checked on the others, Eli and I rushed toward the moving figure who was getting dangerously close to the flames. 

Eli reached him first, and firmly held his shoulders while trying to get his attention.  “Whoa, son.  Stay here.”

 “My men,” the man muttered.  “I have to get…”  He tried to push against Eli’s hold and move toward the wreckage once again. He was much too weak to give much of a battle, though, and soon Eli had him sitting down. 

It was almost as if getting off his hands and knees was a signal to his body to let go, and he collapsed to one side.  He immediately tried to prop himself onto his elbow again, though, still trying to sit back up.

I tried to get him to lie down, but he struggled even more.  “Hey man,” I said, in what I hoped was a soothing voice, “You need to lie still.  You’re torn up pretty badly.”

“Have to…” he struggled, with less and less strength.  I could see that the man was close to passing out, but wasn’t going to go down without a fight. 

Fighting him didn’t seem to be working, so I tried another tactic.  I touched the man’s face, gently turning it toward mine.  “They’re gone, man.  No one could still be alive in there.”  I gestured toward the blaze.

The injured man whimpered, but then began to struggle again.  “No,” he pushed at me, but was rapidly losing strength.

“Look at me, man.” I turned the man’s face toward mine again but his eyes never left the wreckage.  “You got those two out, didn’t you?” There could be no other explanation.  I could see the drag marks leading to each man’s feet.  If either man had been conscious at the time, neither had helped in their escape.  This man must have made those two trips to the wreckage before succumbing to this own considerable injuries.  “You did the best you could, man.  These two wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.  You need to lie down here now.”

The man finally met my eyes and in that instant, I saw soul-searing pain and guilt and failure before the eyes fell shut and the man collapsed in my arms.  Somehow, I don’t yet know quite how, I know that this is one of the reasons I feel like I belong here.  I was meant to be here for this man.  I have _no_ idea why I believe that, or how that would be true, but I have no doubt that it is.

*********

Eli radioed back to the village to get the other two jeeps sent out.  Mbiraru was checking over the other two, using the salve on only one.  I was a little worried about what that might mean, but I was too busy trying to reassure the man in my arms as he awoke every couple of minutes, mumbling, and distressed.  When the Laibon finally brought the salve over, I asked him about the other man. 

“He did not need it,” Mbiraru answered in broken English.

“He died?”  I wanted to clarify.

“Enk-ai-na-nyokie has seen fit to take what is his,” He answered solemnly.   Enk-ai-na-nyokie  was the Maasai word for ‘god’… well, one aspect of ‘god’…the ‘red’ god who controls life and death (The Maasai have a complicated belief system – at least too complicated to go into right now.  I may write a paper on that alone one of these days, but not today).  I was saddened for the man himself – another of who knew how many victims of this crash – but I was more worried for the man in my arms.  He was so upset that he couldn’t save the others.  How was he going to feel knowing that there was one more he didn’t save.

 

I tried to shake it off.  I couldn’t worry about that right then.  We needed to get these men back to the village and do what we could for the two that were alive.  I wasn’t sure what we were going to do with the one who had died. 

When the jeeps arrived, we carefully loaded the unconscious men into one each, and body in the third.   All the students tried to get a seat in one of the two with live victims.  If it wasn’t so sad, it would have been funny to watch them push each other out the way and even out of the jeeps.  I even heard one of them say “Shove it.  I’m gonna walk!”

I had just unconsciously piled into the jeep with the man I had been holding, and no one was going to tell ‘Dr. Sandburg’ to get out of the jeep.  But, it was obvious the kids really were not comfortable riding with the corpse, so I hopped out, leaving the man in Eli’s tender care.

“Jamie,” That was the name of the kid that was going to walk – not that Eli would have let him.  “I’ll ride in that jeep.  You jump in here.”  Jamie virtually teleported into jeep and the three vehicles started back toward the village.

 

Day 35:

We looked for dog tags on each of the three men that day, as soon as we got safely back to the village, but none of them were wearing any.  That was odd.  I thought military men _always_ wore their dog tags.  Jamie suggested that maybe their mission had been a covert one, especially since they were clearly dressed for and wore face paint for jungle insertion, not like they were going to another military base or something.

“You know, Blair,” he grinned (this kid was _rarely_ serious, even about serious things), and said in an ‘announcer’ type voice, “As always, should you or any of your team be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions.”

I couldn’t help chuckling a little before answering.  “Man, that’s not real life; that’s ‘Mission Impossible’”

“Well,” Jamie stated before walking away, “It _did_ turn out to be a pretty impossible mission.”

Man, I have _got_ to get that kid to serious up a little.  But, he did have a point.  If this team of men were on some covert op, then they may well have stripped themselves of identifying information, on purpose.  Made sense … also made it damned impossible to let anyone know who we had rescued.

Eli had headed out to the nearest ‘city’ anyway, and tried to get in touch with _some_ military bigwig _somewhere_.  We didn’t even know if these men were Army, Navy, Marines… hell, they could have been mercenaries who had commandeered a military plane somewhere.  But, Eli was doing his best.  He’d been gone for three days working the problem. We hadn’t heard from him yet, which meant he hadn’t gotten anywhere.  With the city being so far away, he had made the decision, even before he left, that he would just stay there until he had something to report or had exhausted all avenues he could think of…whichever came first.

Meanwhile, I sit here next the sole survivor of the crash (the second man died just a couple of hours ago), hoping that he’d wake up and tell us who he and his friends were.  We damned near lost him too, the first night back.  Despite Mbiraru’s salve, the man’s significant number of wounds had gotten infected.  His fever has been fluctuating between 101 and 103 for three days now.

Sara, one of the other students, just left, after starting the now familiar argument, yet again.

“Dr. Sandburg,” she had said, as she had numerous times daily for the last three days, “We need to take him to the city.  Let them nurse him back to health.  We can’t do anything for him here and he’s taking valuable resources from these people.”

Now, Sara’s a good kid.  She has her heart in the right place. She’s truly worried about creating a hardship for the Maasai villagers, but Mbiraru is the closest thing these people have to a leader, and he wants to keep this man _here_ , so he can fulfill his ‘duty’ as Laibon and try to keep him in the land of the living.  I tend to agree.  A five hour trip over rough terrain, in an open jeep, _can’t_ be good for the man.  Besides, the only ‘resources’ the guy was currently using was the salve to keep the infection at bay, and a combination of herbs said to reduce fever.  That and the tiny bit of water we can get him to swallow in the few moments out of every hour or so that he’s lucid enough to swallow.

We were all hoping that Eli would be back by now, and we would be spared the decision … not only of what to do with the man in front of me, currently mumbling in fevered confusion, but also of what to do with the second one who had died.

The Maasai don’t believe in burial – except for the burial of a Laibon.  I wonder if that belief grew up because the ground around here is often difficult to dig, even enough for subsistence farming, let alone to dig a hole deep enough to keep animals from the bodies; or if it was more tied to their belief that the land was sacred, and not wanting to put something into it that they honestly felt had no worth.  The Maasai don’t have a concept of an afterlife per se (though they think that a Laibon who has died can sometimes come back as a snake – but that’ll go in that paper I write on their religion), so, when a villager dies, they are just left outside for the animals (‘circle of life’ kind of thing).  In fact, it is considered dishonorable if the animals _don’t_ eat the body for some reason, so they usually cover the corpse with fat and blood from a slaughtered ox. (Man, I’m really starting to look forward to writing that paper).  Only the Laibon is protected from the animals with a shallow grave and a stone cairn.

Therein lies the problem actually.  Being Americans, most of us on the expedition want to bury the body (Eli had taken the first with him to try to get it sent back to the states, if he could find out who to send it _to._ )  But, when I mentioned that to Mbiraru, he bristled a little and said he would have to consult with the elders.  Their verdict was that since the man was not a Laibon, he could not be buried on their soil.  They suggested that we follow their practices, but none of us were comfortable with allowing the body to be destroyed.  With Eli gone, I guess I was in charge of the expedition, and I had just about decided that we’d just take the body to the city to meet up with Eli and see if he could send that one to the states, too … assuming he had had any luck finding someplace to send the first one.  Not for the first time, I cursed our lack of cell phone signal out here.  Until Eli came back, or unless one of us met up with him in the city, we’d really have no way to know what was going on.

 

Day 36:

Good news and bad news.

The good news is that the injured man’s fever broke during the night and he’s been awake and talking a little bit today.  The bad news is, he has no idea what his name is, what he was doing flying over Africa in a military plane, the identity of the other two men who had been pulled from the wreckage, or how many people might have still been in the wreckage during the second explosion.  He did remember there being a crash, and he remembered that he tried to save ‘his men’ (he had not remembered that he did, indeed, get two of them out before the plane was totally engulfed) but he couldn’t give us any information other than that.

“Well,” I said, brilliantly, to try to lighten the mood.  The man had been getting quite upset about not remembering, and I really didn’t think that was a good idea in his condition.  “We have to call you _something_.  How about ‘Joe’.”

The guy just looked at me so I continued, “You know, as in ‘G.I. Joe’.”  He didn’t really look amused.  “Well, you _are_ in the military, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so, Chief,” the man said.  I’m not sure how or why I got the ‘chief’ appellation.  Maybe he called everyone that…you know, so he didn’t have to remember names or something.

“Well,” I continued, “Like I said, we need to call you something.  If not Joe, how about Bob?” The look he gave me clearly said, _I might not remember my name, but I remember that I can kill you 50 different ways using a paperclip._ “Bill?  Claude?”  That one got a similar, if magnified, response. “Hey, man, I’m trying to avoid the typical ‘John Doe’ thing here.  You’ve got to throw me a bone man.”  He didn’t seem inclined to help, so I persisted, “Okay, you look like you work out…which, you know, would make since if you’re in the military,”  I knew I was babbling, but since I seemed to be consigned to a monologue here, instead of an actual conversation, I just kept on going.  “How about a strong name … Biff, Mack, Buck.”  He continued to just look at me.  “Let’s see…what other names might hang out at the local gym?”

“Gym,” He finally blurted out, so I went with it.

“You remember going to a gym?”  I smiled,  “That’s a start, man.”

“No.”

“Uh…. You’re kinda confusing me here.”

“Gym!”  Now it was my turn to just sit and stare…though I’m pretty sure _my_ stare is a good bit less lethal.  While I contemplated where this conversation (was it considered a conversation if one person had _no_ idea what was trying to be conveyed?) he continued.  “Not _go_ to a gym.  Jim!  Like the _name_ Jim!  That sounds familiar.”

_Oh,_ I thought, _well, why didn’t I figure that one out earlier._ Out loud, I just said.  “Cool, man!  That’s great!  We’ll call you Jim!”

“Of course,”  he seemed less sure now, “I guess that could just be a name I’m used to hearing, but not necessarily _my_ name.  Could be the name of one of the guys on the plane with me, or my father’s name, or my brother’s.”

“You have a brother, man?”

“How the _hell_ would _I_ know, Chief?”  He really did get _awfully_ upset when he couldn’t remember.  I get the sense that this is a man used to being in control.

“Well, until we know for sure,” I started, “Would it be okay if we called you Jim?”

He hung his head a little, which is _not_ a good look for this guy.  “Yeah, I guess so.  As good as anything, I guess.”

“Better than Biff!”  I tried to lighten the mood again, and this time he smiled a little.

“Yeah, I guess it _is_ at that, Chief.”

“It’s Blair.”  I stated holding out my hand.

He looked puzzled.  “What’s Blair?”

“My name.”

“Oh!”  His eyes widened, as if he hadn’t really thought that he didn’t know my name either.  “Great.  Good to know, Chief.”

Why do I think I’m going to permanently be ‘Chief’ from now on.  Of course, _that’s_ better than Biff too, so I guess there are worse nicknames.

**********

Day 37

Jim slept most of the rest of the day yesterday.  He’s starting to stay awake for slightly longer periods of time, each time, but he’s still, understandably, confused and upset at not remembering anything.  Mbiraru had a theory about that.  He says that Enk-ai-na-nyokie  is protecting Jim for some reason… that Enk-ai-na-nyokie  has big plans for Jim and he can’t fulfill them if he remembers everything right now.

Hey, it’s as good an explanation as any.

*****

I made a decision about the second body…I sent one of Eli’s kids into town with it.  Jamie promised me his entire year’s pay for the next ten years if I picked _anyone_ else but him.  Somehow, I don’t think he was really serious about the money, but he _was_ serious about not wanting to be in that jeep.  And, this was a kid that wasn’t serious about _anything._  I’ll have to talk to him about that later, see what has him so scared to be around dead bodies.  I mean, the kid’s on his way to becoming an anthropologist, and he can’t stand dead bodies?  I realize there’s a great deal of difference between recently dead bodies, and long deceased skeletons … but still.

Sara’s been trying, yet again, for me to send Jim to the city, too.  He could probably stand the ride now, but something in my soul says he needs to stay here.  Mbiraru agrees.  He doesn’t want him to leave any more that I do, so as far as I’m concerned, that settles it…at least for now.  I told Sara that until _Jim_ asked to go to the city, I considered the matter closed, and I didn’t want to hear any more about it.  She wasn’t happy, but I _am_ senior here, so she accepted it.

 

Day 47

Eli got back today.  Boy does he look ragged.  He must not have gotten much sleep at all.  If I know Eli, he probably spent more time than just normal daylight hours.  Especially given the time difference with the states, he probably did a _lot_ of work at night, which wouldn’t have meant that he didn’t then turn around and work during the day, too.

“How did it go, Eli?”

 “No one is admitting to having _any_ military unit of _any_ kind in the area for _any_ reason.” Eli was as annoyed as I’ve ever seen him.

“So, what did you do with the bodies?”  I wondered aloud.

“Well,” he started,” I have a friend at NCIS in Washington who said to send them to him and he’d get his forensic scientist on it.  She can run the DNA through the military data base and see what we come up with.”

“We don’t even know if they _are_ Navy or Marines…they could be Army.  That wouldn’t be in NCIS jurisdiction.”  I pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter,” Eli said with certainty.  “It’s off the books right now.  They’re just doing a friend a favor.  If they find out the guys are Navy or Marines, it’ll become official.”

“Wow, the forensic scientist has time to run DNA for a case that’s not even theirs?”

“I’m sure she’s just as overworked as any other government worker…knowing her, probably even more so, but she has the energy of any ten people I’ve ever met.  Bounces off walls _looking_ for extra things to do, in my opinion.”

I grinned, “Oh, so, like me, huh?  The bouncy part anyway.”

“Son,” he started, “This girl makes you look positively sedate!”

I raised my eyebrow.  “I’ve got to meet _this_ chick.”

He chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do when we get back.  How do you feel about sleeping in coffins?”

********

The laughter was just what we both needed.  Dealing with Jim the last week and a half has been trying.  He is cranky about not being able to remember much (although he has remembered a few minor things).  He’s also downright _bitchy_ about not being able to get up and move around much.  Mbiraru doesn’t think it’s a good idea just yet.  We don’t think anything is broken, but he had a pretty nasty gash in his side, obviously a pretty significant head injury, and his legs are just _all_ cut up with what Mbiraru thinks might be some permanent muscle damage.  He’s got burns on his hands and arms…not horrible ones, considering, … but bad enough that he should take it easy. 

I had asked Jim, the day after we figured out what to call him, if he wanted to try to get into town, so that he could get the better medical care there, but I explained to him that it would be a five hour drive.  Jim winched at the thought of bumping across five hours’ worth of Africa and not so politely declined. 

His exact words were, “I can’t tolerate sitting up for more than five _minutes_.  How the _hell_ do you think I can take five _hours_ in a _jeep?_!”  Like I said, not polite.

You know, I’m not really sure what I see in this guy sometimes.  He’s pretty much been nothing but surly (at best) since he woke up.  Any time I try to ask him questions, hoping to jar his memory a little, he shuts me down.  What _is_ there to _like_ really?  I realize I’m not catching him at his best, but I get the distinct feeling that he _always_ tends to be a little surly and shut down. 

But, I can’t help the gut feeling – soul-deep feeling, really – that he and I are connected in some way.  I mentioned that feeling to Mbiraru, and he agreed that we were, but was no more able to tell me how he knew that, or in what _way_ we were connected, than I was able to tell myself. When I tried to explain it to Eli, he just laughed.  I don’t think I want to even _try_ to explain it to Jim, yet.

He already does _nothing_ but complain about just about _anything_.  The kids are being too loud, the Inkajijik stinks.  The blankets are too rough.  The light (in the all but dark room) is too bright. 

Jamie tried to spell me of my self-appointed ‘Jim-sitting’ duties by playing a game of cards with the man for a while.  He told Jamie he stank.  Well of _course_ the kid stinks.  We _all_ stink.  Water is a precious commodity here.  Sponge baths are about the best we can do most of the time.  But, Jim refused to let Jamie anywhere _near_ him.  He said it was more than sweat, Jamie just stank.  The poor kid was crushed…well, for like five minutes…but for Jamie, that was pretty crushed. 

Jim explained a little more calmly, if not much more kindly, that the smell was not sweat or feet or bad breath, but something bitter and ‘herby’.  The only thing I could think of that would smell any different about Jamie is that local weed he chews on constantly.  It always reminded me of when I was a kid.  We stayed with some friends of Naomi’s for a while, who lived on a farm, and the kids there would pick the hay as it grew and chewed on it.  The kids here seemed to do the same thing with certain ‘grass’ growing in the plains.  Jamie tried it one day, just to see what it tasted like.  He had said it tasted a little bitter, but he liked it anyway and it gave him something to do since Eli wouldn’t let any of the team smoke.  So now he chews it almost all the time.  But, he didn’t have any in his mouth, or even on him, when he went to play cards with Jim.

How would Jim _smell_ that on Jamie?  None of _us_ noticed a smell of _any_ kind associated with the plant or Jamie after he had chewed on it.  It would be impossible for Jim to smell…

Man, I’ve been really blind here.  All of Jim’s complaints…things being too bright, too noisy, too rough, and now smell.  I bet his sense of taste is enhanced too.  You know, for an intelligent guy, I’ve been kind of dumb.  My own Master’s Thesis was written about Sentinels…people with all five senses heightened well beyond norm, but in all my searches for a modern day Sentinel, I never once found anyone with more than one or two enhanced senses.  I haven’t really even _thought_ about Sentinels for a while now.  I switched my doctorate dissertation to modern closed societies, and got ride along status for six month with the Major Crime Unit at Cascade PD.  Seems Eli has friends everywhere and pulled some strings with the captain there…Simon Banks.  They were all very good people.  I miss being around them as much.  I still see them sometimes, though.  I consult from time to time, on cases where an Anthropology professor might come in handy, and I still actually see a couple of the guys socially.  Jim would fit right in with them.  Alpha males seem to be the same the world over, and they seem to have them in abundance in closed societies like the police department.

I’ll have to talk to Jim about the Sentinel thing, though.  That might really be the reason he’s having so much trouble.  I might be able to help him get a handle on controlling them better.  I wonder if he had them before the accident?  Maybe _this_ is why I feel like I belong here for Jim?  To help him be a Sentinel?  Who knows.

*****

Yeah, well, that went well.  I think if Jim had more strength, he would have come after me and thrown me against the wall or something.  He did _not_ like the idea of being a sentinel.  Of course, maybe I shouldn’t have made mention of primitive man when I first brought up the idea, but hey, to me, that’s _not_ an insult.  I mean, look at us here.  We’re living with a group that certainly _could_ be considered ‘primitive’ but, if you ask me, they’re more accomplished at some things than _we_ are.  And being a Sentinel?  Who wouldn’t want five enhanced senses?  Besides Jim that is.

After he calmed down, it was a little better.  I was able to point out the good points, and how it could be used to protect his men in the military (since I knew he was concerned about that).  But, that didn’t really have the effect I was hoping for.

“Chief,” he started, “I don’t even know that I’m _in_ the military.  And if I _am_ I’m not really sure I _want_ to be.  Something about it doesn’t seem right.  Every time I try to think about that aspect of this whole thing, I feel…I don’t know…betrayed? Angry?  I don’t know why.”

“Man, that’s a start, though.”  I tried to point out the bright side.  “If you’re remembering feelings attached to certain things, maybe the memories will come back before long, too.

“Yeah, maybe.” He didn’t seem to sound too convinced, though.  “Adding this ‘senses’ thing right now, is just _not_ good timing.”

“You didn’t have the senses before the crash?” I asked before I thought.

“How the hell would I…” he started.

“Know,” we finished together.

“Yeah, sorry Jim.  I guess you wouldn’t know that …yet.”  I grinned at him and he actually smiled back a little.

*****

Mbiraru heard Jim’s angry voice coming from the Inkajijiks and came over to investigate.  By the time he got there, Jim’s voice had calmed down, so he waited for me to come outside before asking me what had gotten Jim so upset.  Mbiraru is perhaps the only other person in the village who actually _likes_ Jim.  Eli tolerates him.  Jamie is willing to give him another try if Jim ever lets the boy near him, but other than that, everyone else pretty much stays clear, except for Mbiraru and me.

I told the Laibon my theory to explain Jim’s complaints and his face was pretty much what I suspect mine looked like when I finally worked it out.

“Of course,” he said, “He is ɔl-áɨ-rrágání!”

“Yeah, ummm… Mbiraru,” I started, “my Maa isn’t that good.  I don’t know what that means.”

It was his turn to stumble with language.  “I do not know your name for it.  The ɔl-áɨ́rrágání is someone who can see game a long way away or smell where the nearest water is to refresh the herd. I think maybe ‘watchman’?”

“We call that a Sentinel,” I answered.  “I’m thinking maybe we should stick to that.  Jim can barely say ‘sentinel’ without cringing.  I can’t imagine trying to get him to say ɔl-áɨ-rrágání.”

The Laibon chuckled at that.  “I can see your point, my friend.  We will call him a Sentinel, but I will tell the elders that Enk-ai-na-nyokie has sent us a ɔl-áɨ́rrágání.”

It was my turn to chuckle. “You do that.  Let me know what they say.”

It turns out that what they said was that Jim should stay with them and not return to America.  They said that this is why Enk-ai-na-nyokie let Jim forget his life there.

I worked up the courage to relay that request to Jim.  _That_ went over well, too!

 

Day 50

Okay, so Jim is finally coming around to my way of thinking about the senses…well, maybe not really _my_ way of thinking, because I think they’re fantastic… but he’s willing to entertain the notion that they’re not something that can be turned off, and is starting to listen (a little) to my suggestions on how to control them.  We’ve been doing some unofficial tests. He hates it, but he’s willing to admit that maybe the tests are worthwhile.

We went out onto the plain a little yesterday and I asked him to look for game, try to smell water, etc.  After all, those were the things that the early sentinels did for the tribe.  He can see an a _mazing_ distance away, and hear just about as far. 

Mbiraru thought of a test for Jim’s taste and smell.  Since I haven’t ceased my work with the Laibon on the various uses of plants and combinations thereof, my native friend suggested that Jim could practice his gifts by trying to identify which plants were used in which ‘medicine’ by using either smell or taste (depending on the intended use of the mixture). Jim was less than thrilled, but was willing to try.  Um….we found out that Jim is allergic (or at least has a _very_ sensitive reaction to one of the remedies for skin conditions – and isn’t _that_ ironic. He broke out in a horrible rash and since what _caused_ the rash was what Mbiraru would normally have put on the skin to _cure_ the rash, there wasn’t really much we could do about it.  Jim made damned sure that we knew just how miserable he was.

 

Day 55

Jim is getting restless.  He’s cooperating with the tests (or practices, as Mbiraru calls them), and he genuinely doesn’t seem _nearly_ as upset by the senses as he was at first, but _something_ has him on edge.  He’s started to have nightmares.  We had long since moved him into the Inkajijik that Eli and I shared, instead of the Laibon’s own home, so Eli and I both had a front row seat for the night terrors that were becoming a regular part of life in the last 4 or 5 days.

Jim wakes up screaming, “No!” or “Get out!” or “I’m coming!  Hang on!”  Those I can explain.  I’m fairly certain they’re about the crash.  The ones that puzzle me are when he screams “You bastard!” and “How _could_ you!”  He wakes up with no memory of what he dreamt about, but he retains the emotion…either fear or desperation or anger.  He can’t explain any of it any better than I can and it’s starting to wear on him again. 

I can’t help but think that he was starting to remember…at least subconsciously.  I just couldn’t figure out _what_ he was remembering.

 

 

Day 56

My heart broke for Jim last night.  Eli and I were kind of getting used to the screams, but last night, Jim woke up sobbing.  I mean ‘just lost your best friend in the world’ _sobbing!_ My heart broke all the more when he let me hold him.  He’s just _not_ a touchy feely kind of guy…well, not since he came here, at least. I’m not sure _what_ he was like normally.  He probably didn’t either, for that matter.  We sat there for the longest time…me rocking him, and him not only _letting_ me, but leaning into it and seemingly gaining _some_ comfort from it.

I was glad I could help, if only a little, and just when I thought my heart couldn’t possibly break any more on his behalf, I realized that not only did he wake up shaken, but that he actually _remembered_ what had shaken him.

“They’re all dead, Chief,” he had finally managed to croak out.  I tightened my hold a little, and continued rocking him.  “There were seven of us.  We were on… some kind of mission, but Tyler…oh god, Chief…one of them was named Tyler.  He…I’m not sure what, exactly.  He sold us out somehow and I found out.  I’m not sure how.  But, I remember fighting with him.  He pulled his gun and I lunged into him…just to knock the gun out of his hand, but we were too close to the front of the plane, and there was only a curtain separating us from the pilot and when Tyler fell, … god, Chief.  The gun went off and killed…god, I can’t remember his name!  We started to go down.  I think we hit something, or… the fuel line was hit…or something…I don’t know…but the next thing I knew, the engine was on fire, and we were going down.”  He started shaking again with restrained tears.  “I _caused_ it Chief!  They all died because of me!”

He shut down after that.  He pulled away from my embrace, flung himself onto his side, facing the wall, and hasn’t spoken since.  I think maybe I was wrong.  My heart didn’t just break last night.  It’s still in the process of breaking.

 

Day 57

I think Jim is having a difficult time recovering from reliving the plane crash.  I don’t know exactly what happened, but from what little Jim _does_ remember of it, it doesn’t sound to _me_ like he has anything to blame himself over.  It sounds like he was trying to _protect_ the rest of the men from this Tyler, for some unspecified reason.  I can’t get Jim to see it that way though. 

He didn’t leave the Inkajijik all day yesterday, and barely said two words in twenty-four hours. At least he came out this morning…deflated, but back among the land of the living.  He’s even allowing some tests, though his heart really isn’t in it.

“What good are these damned senses if I can’t save my men?”  He finally confided.

“Jim…you don’t remember exactly what happened.” I tried to reason with him.  “For all you know, the reason you knew that Tyler had sold you out had something to do with your senses.”

“Yeah,” he snorted, “And look how good _that_ turned out.”

“Jim,” I put my hand on his shoulder.  “You can’t blame yourself for an _accident!_   You were trying to keep him from using the gun.  You did what you thought best at the time.  You can’t now second guess yourself just because you know it didn’t turn out how you wanted.”

He rounded on me at that.  “How I _wanted?!_ Shit, Chief, this didn’t just ‘not turn out how I wanted.’  Six men are _dead!_ ”

“I know, Jim.”  I returned to his shoulder, the hand that had fallen off when he rounded on me.  “But, it’s _not_ your _fault!”_

He patted my hand, gave a little shrug, and said, “Sure _feels_ like it is.”  And, he walked away.  He holed up in the Inkajijik for a couple hours.

 

Day 59

Jim had a bit of a breakthrough last night.  He remembered he lives in (or at least grew up in) Cascade Washington.  Eli suggested that we take Jim to the city and see if we can get some DNA sent to Eli’s friend in DC.  How many military men named Jim can live in Cascade Washington?

One of the students asked, “Why not just send him to Cascade?”  He really just hadn’t thought it out.

Before I could jump in, Eli answered.  “ _Where_ in Cascade would we send him?  He doesn’t even remember his last name.  He has nowhere to go.  His wounds are healed sufficiently that he doesn’t need to be in a hospital, but not well enough to make traveling to the states comfortable at all.”

“Plus,” I added, “Mbiraru wants him to stay here for a while longer, until he’s sure all the infection is taken care of.”

“I think Mbiraru has adopted Jim as a mascot.”  Of course, that was Jamie’s input.

Anyway, after much discussion, we decided to just leave it up to Jim, which, of course, is as it should be.

*****

Jim actually _went_ for the idea of going to the city, though he balked at trying to fly.  In all of our deliberations, we hadn’t taken into account that not only might Jim not be comfortable flying with his injuries only partially healed, but he might not be comfortable _flying_!  I mean, he was in a plane crash that stole his comrades, his memory, and much of his mobility.  Who in their right mind would want to hop right back on a plane.

So, we set about getting ready for the trip.  Eli had gassed up the jeep when he had been in town, and had brought back some extra fuel, so we topped the tank and plan to get to sleep as early as possible.  We leave at first light tomorrow.

 

Day 60

Thank Mbiraru’s little shamanistic heart. He insisted that we take along a good supply of a medicinal root that would help with pain.  Jim has been refusing to take it for a while now, and told Mbiraru that he wouldn’t need it, but about two hours into our rough ride, pain lines were etched like canyons around his eyes. I knew enough about the man to know that he wouldn’t voluntarily _ask_ for the stuff, so I dug through my knapsack until I found the bag they were in. I plucked one out and neatly tossed it to Jim, not saying a word.  I didn’t even look at him more than strictly necessary to aim the root so it didn’t just fly off the other side of the jeep.  I could tell, out of the corner of my eye, that Jim was just sitting there, looking at me, so I purposefully scooted up to lean on the seat behind Eli, while he drove.

“Daaaaaad,” I whined, “Are we there yet?”

Eli chuckled.  “Don’t _make_ me come back there, young man!”

I giggled (I’ll admit it; it was an actual giggle) as I sank back into the back seat again.  When I glanced over at Jim, he had a small grin on his face, as he nibbled on the root.

******

By the time we got into town, Jim was in agony.   Not that he would admit it.  Eli had wanted to go right to what passed for the police department here and get the DNA swab done right away, but I could tell Jim wasn’t going to make it.

“Hey, Eli,” I started, “I’m really hungry, man. Can we check into the motel and get a bite to eat first?”

Eli looked at me, puzzled at first, because he’s seen me go longer without food, but then he got a good look at Jim.  “Yeah, I guess the police station will still be there when we get finished.  Why don’t you and Jim go get a room for the three of us at the hotel,” he pointed down the street, “and I’ll pick us up some lunch.  I’m a little more familiar with the city and I know a good take out place.  I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

I let out a genuine sigh of relief.  “Thanks, man.  We’ll see you there.”

Jim just followed me like a lost puppy – another testament to just how much pain he was in – until we had checked into the small hotel and made it up to the room.  Then he surprised me.

“Thanks, Chief.”  He looked genuinely appreciative.  “I know you’re not hungry, but I really could use the rest.”

“Hey,” I answered, good-naturedly, “I could eat.”

He chuckled but then dropped to the bed.  By the time Eli got back, Jim was sound asleep.

“Good thing I didn’t get him anything perishable,” Eli noted, and tossed me a sandwich.

******

Eli didn’t just bring back lunch, he had also picked up some Tylenol and the promise of a visit from one of the doctors at the local ‘hospital’.  It was more like a clinic really.

“I met her when I was here last time.  She was the doctor I met when trying to get _something_ done with the bodies.  She said she’ll come here, take a look at Jim and take the swab then.  Keep him from having to go to the police station.  I’ll send it along to DC and we’ll have the answer in a couple of days, provided he’s in _some_ branch of the military.”

“Well,” I started, “He has to be, right?  I mean he was decked out in military camouflage and riding in a military plane.”

Eli just looked at me.  “People other than legitimate military men can dress in camouflage and face paint and commandeer a military plane.”

I was shocked.  “What are you saying, Eli?”

“Blair, he said one of his men sold them out.  To who?  Was this Tyler really the bad guy selling out legitimate military men or the good guy trying to bring down a private militia or terrorist cell?”

“No way.” I couldn’t believe my ears.  “There is _no_ way you believe that Jim is involved in something like that.”

Eli shook his head.  “No, I don’t really think it’s the most probable explanation, but it _is_ a _possible_ explanation. We know _nothing_ about this guy, Blair…except that he’s really not very nice.”

“ _I_ know him.  I don’t know how, Eli, but I _know_ him.  I know what kind of man he is, and I know how kind he can be when he’s not stressing out over not remembering anything but painful events.”

Eli looked doubtful.

“I know,” I continued.  “There’s no way I can know that for sure.  But I _do,_ dammit!  I just do!”

“Well, he agreed to the DNA testing, so either he’s legit, or he just doesn’t remember that he shouldn’t submit to one.  So, we’ll see.”

Dammit.  I have no clue where _any_ of that came from.  From Eli’s side _or_ mine.  But I meant what I said.  I know Jim with the same certainty that I knew I was meant to be here, in just this place, at just this time, for just this man.  Mbiraru has agreed with my assessment of Jim’s character all along too, so I’m not the only one.

And, as for being ‘nice’, Jim has been showing a softer side these last several days.  I really think the surly thing is more an act to keep people out.  And, with as guilty as Jim felt when he thought he might have accidentally caused the crash… he’s a good man, and after calming down, I realize that Eli probably thinks so too; he’s just trying to keep his mind open to any possibility.  He’s just being a good scientist.  Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

 

Day 61

Jim hardly moved at all yesterday.  He woke up and ate his sandwich, cooperated when the doctor arrived and gave the DNA sample, but then he moped around the hotel the rest of the day. 

Oh, and the doctor…boy, there’s another story right there.  I had to tease Eli.  This lady was openly flirting with him, the whole time she was here, and he was completely oblivious.

“Eli, man, I’m telling you, she was checking you out.  You could end up with a gal in every port if you keep this up.”

He threw me one of those, _‘Now, Blair, don’t be juvenile’_ looks and told me I was imagining things.  I didn’t tell him that I was very well aware of all the atypical preening he had engaged in prior to her arrival.  Now I know why.

 

*******

Eli decided we might as well stay in the city for a couple of days until we see if we can get an ID.  No since driving all the way back to the village and just turning around and coming back in a couple of days to get the results.  Besides, I don’t think Jim could take another five hour drive right now.  Physically or mentally.  It’s like he’s just shutting down.  I left him alone pretty much all day yesterday.  But he’s not going to get away with it today.

“Okay,” I said, pulling the covers off of Jim’s bed at 10 this morning. “Enough pouting.  We’re going for a walk.”

“My legs hurt, Chief.  I don’t want to walk.”

“Tough.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard such deafening silence before.  I think I completely stunned him.  He didn’t glare, he didn’t protest, he just lay there.  I took advantage of that and started pulling his legs toward the edge of the bed.

He pulled them away and snapped.  “Leave me alone, Chief.”

“Nope, sorry. Only one day of moping per customer.  Time to get up now.”

Again with the silence.

“We can go do some tests on your senses.  It’s bound to be different here in the city.  Not that it’s much of a city by American standards…not much more than a small town really, but it’s diff….”

“To _hell_ with the senses, Sandburg!”

Oh, whoops.  Sandburg?  _That’s_ new.

“Jim, I thought you were starting to realize…”

“I don’t want them.  If I can’t do anything good with them, why the hell have them?”

“Jim…”  It was my turn to be stunned.  I mean, I know he was upset the other night about not being about to save his men, even with the senses, but it’s almost like he’s _blaming_ the senses. Or something.

We just sat there like that for a while.

“Blair?” 

That was new too.  Usually I’m just ‘Chief’.  I just waited him out, knowing whatever was coming was important, but willing to let him say it in his own time.

It didn’t take long really.  “What if I don’t like who I am?”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but he continued before I had a chance to say anything anyway.  “I have a confession to make.” I don’t know what my face looked like, but he must have read _something_ there that made him hurry on to explain.  “I woke up a little when Eli came in with the food yesterday.  I heard him talking.”

Oh, so that’s what this was about.  “I meant what I said, Jim.  I _know_ you’re an honorable man.  We’ll find that out, just as soon as we get the DNA results.”

“What if we don’t? What if we don’t get results because I’m not in the military data base.  Or worse, what if we _do_ get results but it’s because I’m on the most wanted list or something.”

“Well, first of all, I don’t think they have a data base of private militia-men or terrorists, so if what Eli was suggesting was true, I doubt we’d get results at all.  But even if we don’t, it doesn’t mean you were on some nefarious mission.”

“Chief, I’ve been thinking about that.  No dog tags, but dressed to blend in.  If I _am_ military, it’s got to be Special Forces or something.  In which case, I very well _could_ have been on a nefarious mission…albeit a sanctioned one.”

Well, what was I supposed to say to _that_?  I guess I always knew it was a possibility.  We just sat there for the longest time.

******

Suddenly, he just leapt off the bed.

“Chief!”

“What is it, Jim?  What’s wrong?”

“Crying.”

“Huh?”  I just love it when I get all articulate.

“A kid.  Crying.”

“Okay, you lost me, Jim.”

“Dammit, Chief.  You’re the one always telling me how wonderful these damned senses are.  I can _hear_ a kid crying.”

“Well, we’re in a hotel, Jim, so maybe…”

“It’s not that kind of crying, though.  It’s not ‘I’m hungry’, or ‘I’m cranky’, or ‘I didn’t get my way’.  It’s more like the kid is scared.  Terrified!”

“Then let’s go see what’s going on.”

That was enough for me.  If Jim wanted to track this kid down, if it would give him some piece of mind, I was all for it.  We’d probably find that kid had wandered away and was a little confused.  We’d find him, or her, and return them to their family, and Jim would feel a little better about his senses.

I wasn’t at all surprised when Jim led us to the outdoor market at the very edge of the ‘city’.  Easy place for a kid to get lost.  I also wasn’t surprised when we saw a frantic young woman asking anyone she saw, “Have you seen my baby?  Jeffry.  He’s four years old.  I can’t find him!”

I was about to assure her that he had to be around here somewhere and we’d find him for her, when I noticed Jim wasn’t paying attention at _all._ He just continued on whatever auditory trail he was following, and was heading away from the marketplace.  I didn’t know whether to tell the young lady to follow us, or just to leave it alone and return the boy once we found him. 

We got about two blocks away from the market when Jim just stopped dead in his tracks.

“Jim?

“He stopped crying.”  Maybe he _was_ listening if he knew the child was a ‘he’. Then again, that’s the pronoun most people use if they don’t know the gender of the person they’re talking about, so… But, Jim cut off my thoughts.  “Something’s wrong, Blair.  He stopped crying.”  Then Jim took off running.  “He’s having trouble breathing!” Then, a second later.  “He’s choking!”

Well, at least he had the trail again.  He headed straight toward the boy.  By the time he stopped again, he was panting.  With exhaustion or pain, or both, I wasn’t sure, but I knew he wouldn’t have stopped unless he either couldn’t hear the kid anymore or he thought he was around _here_.  The problem was that there wasn’t much ‘ _here’_ here!

I looked around.  There was a dirt bank of some sort, and …. Oh no.  The only thing around was the remnant of an old well.  More like just a really deep hole, actually.  At least I hoped there wasn’t any water in it.  The edges were all dry and crumbly.  But that didn’t stop Jim from crawling right to the edge of it anyway.

“Jeffry!?”  So he _was_ listening to the woman.  “Can you hear me, buddy?”

This time, even I heard the crying.  It was faint, but it was there.

“Can you answer me, buddy?  Is your name Jeffry?”

“Mommy!!!  I want mommy!”

“Chief, let’s assume it’s Jeffry.  Go back and see if you can find his mom and bring her here.”

“And what are _you_ gonna do?”

He looked at me like I had grown an extra head.  “Get him out of there.”

“Jim, if you start crawling around over there, you’re going to cave more dirt in on top of him.”

“Just go get help, Chief.  I know what I’m doing.”

I had no doubt that he did.  I ran back to the marketplace and brought back not only Jeffry’s mother, but a bunch of would-be rescuers too.  By the time we got back, Jim was nowhere to be seen.

“JIM!”  Had he fallen in?  Was he hurt? (more than he already had been)

“I’m fine Chief.  We’re both just sitting down here waiting for a rope.  Think you can find one?”

Of course, several of the impromptu rescuers had managed to grab ropes and rope-type things, so there was no shortage there.  It took a while because of the powdery soil around the opening, but we finally got them both out…safe and sound.

Jeffry launched himself at his mother, and I launched myself at Jim. Came pretty close to pushing him back in, actually.  He wasn’t quite as steady on his feet as he had appeared and he stumbled a little with my weight, but he caught himself, and me, and not only let me hug him, but he hugged back.  Jeffry’s mom had to have a turn hugging the stuffing out of him, too, and Jeffry wanted him to pick him up. 

Finally, when everyone started to wander away, he slouched just a little, letting me (but only me) see a glimpse of just how big a toll this rescue had taken on his still recovering body.  “Let’s go ‘home’, Chief.”

******

He had taken a shower, and put on some clean clothes that Eli had found for him somewhere and had sacked out again.  This time, I agreed that he earned spending some daylight time in bed. 

Eli had been out checking to see if there was any word on the identities of the two bodies, when we were out having our big adventure.  He came rushing in, all worried, about five minutes after we got back to the room.

“God, Blair, are you and Jim okay?”

“Yeah.  Why?”

“Geez, boy.  The whole town is talking about the two Americans that saved a little boy from a collapsed well.  I just knew you had to be involved in that _somehow_ so I rushed back here as fast as I could.”

I laughed.  “Yeah, it does sound like just the kind of situation that would find me, doesn’t it?   Actually, though, this time it was Jim’s fault!”  I grinned, but I could feel the pride all over my face.  I’m sure Eli saw it.  “He used his senses, Eli.  Mostly his hearing.  He heard the boy crying before we even knew there was a kid lost!”

I took the next half hour telling him all about it.

 

Day 62

Jim actually slept through the day and most of the night.

Around 2AM, he woke with a start.  “Kids!”

Oh no, not again.  More kids?

“Chief.  The mission.  We were supposed to rescue some kids!  An orphanage or something.  In a jungle somewhere.  Hostile territory.  That’s why the camo and face paint.  I had been sleeping and when I woke up, I realized we were _way_ off course.  I headed up to the cockpit.  Tyler had a transmitter or something.  Some reason I thought he was working for the enemy.  He didn’t deny it.  Actually, he said the other side paid better.”  He was really getting worked up now.  “Chief, we never made it.  The kids are still there.  We never made it there to get them out!”

He was pacing now and looked for all the world like a caged animal.  Muscles ready to run and nowhere to go.

“Jim,” I tried to keep my voice calm without sounding condescending or anything. I knew Jim would react badly if he thought I was being condescending.  “I hear you, man.  And we’ll check on that.  But, there’s no way to help them right now.  We don’t have enough information.  Where are they exactly?  How far away?  There’s really no jungle around here, Big Guy, and you said you were way off course.  There’s no way to get to them.”  And it had been a month now.  I didn’t tell him that part.  A month in hostile territory with their rescue waylaid?  There really was a good chance that they no longer needed the rescue by now.  But, I _really_ didn’t want to tell him _that_. 

*****

I got Jim calmed down finally, but he insisted on coming with Eli and me when we went to the police station as soon as it opened.  It was really the only phone around to call the states.  The DNA results may not have come in yet, of course, but Eli was going to ask his NCIS friend to check on any possible rescue missions.

On the walk there, Jim said, out of the blue, “This won’t work. They won’t know about it.  Covert Ops.  Not Navy or Marines, either.”  He just comes up with this stuff at the weirdest times.

“Air Force, maybe?  You were in a plane.”  I suggested, but Jim shook his head.

“Army then?”  Well, duh, Blair.  That’s really the only choice left.  I doubt the Coast Guard has covert ops in jungles somewhere.

Jim nodded anyway.  “Rangers”

Twenty minutes later, Eli was on the phone with his friend in Washington.  Seems they had already narrowed down the search to Army Rangers on their own.  The DNA results on the two bodies came back as Peter Jacobs and Phillip Marcus, both in the Army Rangers on a classified mission.  Apparently, NCIS tried to run down a list of the other men on that mission, but was denied access.  The Army wanted all the information the NCIS team had come up with and ordered them to cease all involvement with the case.  That must have been the part of the conversation when I heard Eli say, “Come on, Jethro.  You know you love a challenge.”

Jim said later that he heard the other side of the conversation, too (a fact we talked about at length, where I pointed out how unethical it was to eavesdrop…and how proud of my boy that he could do that without anyone being the wiser.)  The other man’s response was, apparently, “Didn’t say I was actually going to _obey_ the order, Eli.  We’ll get you the man’s ID just as soon as Abby has it.”

Four hours later, we got word at the hotel that there was a call for Eli Stoddard at the Police Station.  Jim was asleep again.  I was really beginning to worry about how much sleep he still needed, and wondered if it was still physical exhaustion, or perhaps more emotional exhaustion, or depression.  I guess either was possible.

Jim was just waking up when Eli returned, and looked up as the older man came through the door.

Eli whipped off a somewhat respectable salute and said, “Pleased to meet you, Captain James Ellison.”

I looked at Jim.  He really showed no recognition to the name at all, prompting me to ask Eli, “Are you sure?”

“Abby got the DNA results almost right after we hung up.  Jethro called William Ellison, Jim’s father and a couple hours later, they had their list of men on the same mission as Jacobs and Marcus.”  Eli stopped talking when he realized Jim hadn’t really reacted to any of these pieces of information.  “Seems William Ellison is some bigwig with some pulled with the military or something.  I can give you the names of the other men on the plane if you want me to Jim.”

Jim didn’t answer that question; instead, he asked one of his own.  “Did your friend look at my military record?  What’s it like?”

You know, this man keeps breaking my heart.  He still honestly wasn’t sure what kind of man he was.  Eli’s face softened.  I had told him earlier than Jim had heard his speculations about his character.  Eli sat on the corner of the bed and faced Jim, who had still not stood up.  “Jim, I was wrong to even suggest all those things.  From what Jethro tells me, you have a list of commendations as long as his arm.  I’ve know that man for decades and I’ve never heard his voice so full of respect for someone he’s never even met.”

Oddly enough, I’m not sure that was enough for Jim, but he let the subject drop for now.  “So what now?”  Was all he said.

“They’re going to give our contact information to the Army.  I imagine a representative will come by or something to collect you.”

“No,” I interrupted. “He can’t just leave.” No way am I going to let Jim out of my sight.  I don’t even know if Jim felt the same way, but I _know_ I need to stay with him to help him.  But, for some reason, I don’t really think the Army was going to buy the idea.  I could see it now.  ‘ _Well, sir, you see I have to come along with Jim because I feel as if we are somehow spiritually_ _connected in some way, and the shaman of the locate Maasai tribe agrees with me._ Yeah, that would go over well.

 

Day 65

Turns out I didn’t really need to worry…at least not immediately.

Jim was contacted via the local police department by the Army representative.  Seems the doctor here (Eli’s lady friend), had already contacted him…the representative… and said that it was her medical recommendation that Captain Ellison not fly in his current condition.  I’m not sure what kind of clout she has with the military or how she could possibly have _any,_ but it worked.  Jim could stay here until the representative got here to debrief him, which would be a couple of weeks.  By then, they figured, Jim would be able to travel back with him.

Jim has been pretty quiet on the subject.

We did find out that the mission he had been on had been reassigned, but that’s all they would say for now.  Maybe Jim could find out more when the representative got here.

 

Day 70

We traveled back to the village after we got word that it would be a while before the Army guy could get here.  No sense paying for accommodations in the hotel for that long, when we had such welcoming ones for free waiting for us back in the village.

Eli seconded the idea of the return. Of course, he had a different reason.  “If we don’t get back there soon and provide some ‘mature’ supervision, Jamie’s going to have all the Maasai kids spouting limericks and telling bad ‘knock-knock’ jokes.”

Had to agree with him, there.

So, we’ve gone back to the tests on Jim’s senses.  He actually seems to be embracing it now.  As much as I hate for any child to ever feel fear, the situation with Jeffry turned out to have this unusual side effect.  At least now Jim realizes that the senses can come in handy.

He’s also remembering more and more each day.  There will never really be a way for me to know (or even for Jim to know, for that matter) whether _all_ the memories have returned.  But, there’s starting to be enough memories that Jim realizes he can live with who he is.  He’s got regrets…who doesn’t… but overall, it’s been proven that he’s an honorable and basically ‘good’ man.

We’ve talked a lot about what will happen when the military representative gets here. Jim will have to go back to the states, of course, and at first, I thought that would be the last I’d see of him…as much as that pained me.  I mean, I had to stay _here_ right?  And finish the expedition.  And, even if I didn’t, I couldn’t just say ‘ _oh by the way Jim, I know you haven’t invited me, but I feel connected to you and I’ve decided to come with you whether you want me to or not.’_

Then he came up to me last night, while I was sitting at the fire.

“Hey Chief…um…can I ask you something?”  I’ve never seen him so hesitant.

“Sure, man.  Always.”

“Um…I know I have no right to ask this.  I mean…you have your expedition here, and you’re a doctor and all…and I mean…uh…this is what you do…and I have no right to ask…I mean, how self-serving can I be.  Just because I feel… because I want…  I mean.  God, Chief.  This isn’t going well.”

I was stifling a chuckle that was really just going to make things worse, but to see him this flustered was just …funny.  I finally took pity on him though.

“I’m going to take a risk here Jim, and tell you something that _I’ve_ been feeling and thinking.”  He nodded, and I think I may have even heard him mumble ‘thank you’, so I went on.  “When I first got here, I felt out of my element, but then I started to feel like I was meant to be here for some reason.  And then, when we found you, I felt that _you_ were the reason.  I’ve felt like we’re connected in some way, almost from the first moment I saw you.  Mbiraru said as much to me, also…even before we knew you were a Sentinel.  But, once we found that out, Mbiraru told me that I was meant to be ɔl-ajúŋònì to the ɔl-áɨ-rrágání – guardian to the watchman, and that we were spiritually bound.  I don’t know if you put any stock in that kind of thing, and I couldn’t just come up and ask to come home with you, but…”

He grinned.  “That’s the same problem I was having.  So, if we both want the same thing…”

“I’ll tell Eli I’m leaving when you do.”  His smile was the brightest I’ve seen.

Turns out Eli had kind of figured I would end up going with Jim. 

“That means the next person with the most field experience to be my second is…”

“Jamie.” We both finished.

“God help us.” Eli droned and I laughed.

 

Day 80

We’re heading back into the city today.  Eli’s driving so he can say goodbye to me and Jim.  From there, we’ll get a ride to a larger city that actually has an airport and we’ll be USA bound.  From there, I don’t know.  Jim’s not sure if he wants to stay in the Army.  Eli’s lady doctor said Jim has probably sustained enough muscle damage in his legs that he could get a medical discharge.  Everything’s all up in the air right now.  But, as long as I’m with Jim, we’ll figure everything else out.

Hey, I wonder if he’d like police work?  Maybe I’ll give Simon a call when we get back.

 

End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
